


A sliver of hope

by Claiya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19768480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claiya/pseuds/Claiya
Summary: Demons from the past have sunk their claws in him, pulling him down and the only thing she can do is to watch him descend into the darkness. Her love for him won't save him - but the least she can do is to make sure he loves himself.





	A sliver of hope

“Dean”, she mumbled. “Please come back to bed.” 

“Soon, sweetheart. I just need to look over these.” Dean was hunched over the table in the library, eyes scanning the pages of an old dusty book. A glass of untouched whiskey stood next to him and it was well after midnight. She let out a soft breath, massaging her temples. Every night. Every damn night, he would bury himself in work, trying to make up for all the things he had done and said and every time, she had to walk on eggshells in order to not break whatever restless, fragile peace that rested within him. She leaned against the doorframe, an unimpressed look crossing her face.

“You said that two hours ago.”

“I know. Just a little bit more. I only have a few chapters to go.” 

“De, come on. You need sleep. We both do.” 

“Then you go to bed!”, he snapped. “I’m not done reading.” 

“Fine.” She huffed and left for the kitchen. She returned a couple of minutes later to rest in the chair in front of him with two cups of tea in her hands. The fragrance of berries and herbs laced the thick air but Dean pretended not to see the cup she had put at his side. “I guess we’ll both be cranky tomorrow.”

She could see the gears in his head turning. On the one hand, he was adamant on not letting her receive the short end of his situation but on the other hand, he could not rest until he had made amends to the best of his ability. Sensing his discomfort, she slid across the room to put her hands on his shoulders, tenderly massaging the tense flesh. Dean rolled back his head, eyes fluttering shut, a soft sigh escaping his lips. 

“That feels so good, darling”, he groaned as she kneaded the knots and bruises. 

“You’ve been all sorts of tense, as of late.” She bent down to wrap her arms around him, chin resting on his shoulder. “Let me help you. You’re not alone, you know that, right?” She started kissing his neck as he gulped. 

“I might need a break…”

“Then come to bed?”

“No.” Well, it was worth a shot. She unwrapped her arms and went back to her chair. She watched him immerse himself into more lore and after a few minutes, fell asleep. 

  
  


Enough was enough. By the time he was snoozing off every five minutes and the bags under his eyes had gone from mildly concerning to hideously deformed, she decided that time was up. He was putting all his love and attention and care into everything but himself. Locked in that cage of self-loathing and shame, he was slipping away and her heart ached. And the nightmares - the godforsaken nightmares. Those who pulled and tugged at him the few hours he would sleep, constantly trying to drag him underground again. She hated how he woke up in a cold sweat, eyes frantically darting around the room and chest heaving. His pain was her pain and it was becoming unbearable.

It was easy pulling him to the bed. All fighting spirit within him seemed to have melted away. 

“You could find someone better, you know.” Dean was laying on his back, arms spread out and gaze emptily staring up at the ceiling. 

“And what makes you say that?” She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. At least, she didn’t want to. But considering all that he had been through, it sounded just like Dean. Actually, that was Dean in a nutshell, summarised in a sentence. 

“You could get that apple pie-life. White picket fence, two kids, a dog or two, bbq-nights and vacations to cheap hotels in Greece. Exploring the country. Cookouts with the neighbours. A cottage in the woods. Go fishing on Saturdays. All that stuff we talked about before. You could do it, you know that. Get a slice of that life before it’s too late. I want you to.”

“Not without leaving you behind.” Normally, they would be at each other’s throats, screaming their voices off. She would fight him and she would win and then, maybe, she could catch a break from that bizarre, loving stupidity that was Dean Winchester. It used to be heated and passionate and so...Dean-like. But she was wary of her words. At such a vulnerable low, Dean could perceive anything in the wrong way. Right in that moment, he was a piece of glass in her cupped palms, ready to break any time she stumbled. 

“...Then why don’t you?”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence. 

“I don’t want to.” A small voice. “I can’t.”

“There are better guys out there. Guys that aren’t buried knees deep in shit like I am. Guys who don’t fucking rape and murder people!” He was sitting up now, face contorted in despair. “Face it, I was - no, I am a danger and who should not be living right now. You should be fleeing for your life. I am a fucking walking sin!”

“No, you’re not.” She crawled into the bed, straddling his hips and cuppings his cheek with a firm grip. “You are a man who loves too much and cares too much and who has lost too much. You are a man that would rush into a situation headfirst to save someone. You are that person that everyone thinks is annoying but brightens up the room. If anything, you are a good man who did not do all those things.  _ He  _ was the one in the wrong,  _ he  _ is the one who soiled your hands. Not you. Never you.” She calmed down her racing heart. “I wish you could see the you that I see. You are someone worthy of being loved. You are worthy of loving yourself, and until you do, I’ll be here to remind you.”

She gently pushed him down into the mattress. Dean laid limply under her, still processing her words. It didn’t matter if he didn’t believe her - she would show him time and time again just what she saw and what he was.

She removed his clothes until he was completely naked. Leaning down, she eased him into a soft kiss until she went lower, making sure that every inch of his neck had received a kiss, nip or lick. Down his arms, his palms, chest, stomach, thighs, calves...everywhere she could reach. Once she moved upwards again, she spread his legs and pressed her lips to the bruised skin. Dean let out a low groan as he shifted and watched her love him through half-lidded eyes. 

“Darling…” 

“I love you here” - a kiss on his freckled shoulder - “here” - another one on his left palm - “here” - one on his chest - “and anywhere else. You’re so beautiful, Dean.” A blush was forming on his cheeks. They had been together for many years but more often than not, the raw passion and lust overcame them and that slow, raw treatment she was showing his body was painfully naked. 

She moved closer to his waking cock, slowly wrapping her hand around it as she looked up at his face. Her breath was hot against his inner thighs and the mere existence of her so close almost brought him over the edge.

She hesitantly gave the slit a small lick - it had been long since they last had been intimate. At the raise of his hips, she enveloped him in the heat of her mouth, bobbing her head up and down at a slow pace as her hands stroked what she couldn’t reach and gently massaged his balls. Her tongue swirled around him and she made sure that no part was left untouched. His entire being shook with pleasure as his arousal burned in her mouth.

“Beautiful”, she whispered. “So beautiful.” He squeezed his eyes shut at her words. Hearing her marvel at his body, the painfully intimate actions and foremost the intense pleasure caused his hips to jerk and it felt like his lungs were going to burst.

It didn’t take much to bring him over the edge, his thighs trembling and hands curling around the sheets. A stuttering whimper left his hoarse throat. 

“God, sweetheart”, he panted. “That was…”

“Mhm”, she hummed as she once again leaned down to take him into her mouth. The vibrations arose another pleased moan. “More.”

“I can’t”, he grunted. “Sweetheart…” This time, she hollowed her cheeks and picked up the pace until the man under her was a writhing mess. His fingers tangled in her hair, gently tugging it. He deserved it. He deserved everything that she could offer. Not a single train of thoughts remained in his head as a new wave of pleasure overcame him. At last, she curled her fist around its head and squeezed and all the dams broke. 

He came, again, a hot spluttering mess. She lapped it up from the heated skin of his stomach and he wasn’t really sure whether he was awake or asleep. 

The hot warmth of her pussy woke him up, as she directed him into her heat. Dean couldn't form any words as she rode him, hard but slowly. He couldn’t come again. It was impossible and yet the almost painful overstimulation overrode his mind. He went slack underneath her as they came down their high together. 

He opened his mouth to speak but his tongue was in knots. She beamed at him, hands caressing his cheeks. Pecking his forehead, she rolled over, bringing him with her so his face was nestled in the crook of her neck. Her fingers threaded through his air and she smiled widely at his deep breaths. 

She let well-needed sleep engulf them in its embrace. He was going to learn to love himself again. It would take time and it would be consuming but she was determined to be there for him, every step of the way.


End file.
